An Awakening
by Reetinkerbell
Summary: Elizabeth wakes up with amnesia at Pemberley, a year after marrying Mr. Darcy. Complete with outtake, "The Proposal".
1. An Awakening

**Title: **An Awakening  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Pride & Prejudice **Pairing**: Mr. Darcy/Elizabeth Bennet  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Elizabeth wakes up with amnesia, a year after marrying Mr. Darcy.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>PG  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 6 900  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>None  
><strong>Distribution:<strong> Link only please.  
><strong>Written:<strong> January 2013.

**An Awakening **(1/1)

Elizabeth opened her eyes, blinking against the morning sun that streamed through the windows. Due to the sudden blaring light against her sensitive eyes, it took her a moment to realise she was not in her room; the furniture were different and the view, which she could clearly see out of the large windows, was not one she recognised. She took a moment to appreciate the lake and the land surrounding it, unable not to; but only for a brief moment.

Worried at the surprising location, Elizabeth sat up in the luxurious bed, it too not something she was used to, and looked around the well-appointed room.

Her head was throbbing, but until she saw Jane sleeping in a chair by a well-made fireplace, she ignored it. Only then, when she had determined that wherever she was, she was not alone, did Elizabeth allow herself to fall back against the soft pillows and bemoan her aching head.

"Jane," Elizabeth called after a moment. She had to repeat herself several times before her sister blinked awake; the sight of Jane's revealed smile did nothing to comfort Elizabeth, for it suggested her previous state had been dire indeed.

"You are awake," Jane whispered as she came closer. Their hands touched, Jane squeezing Elizabeth's fingers with her own, gratified to feel the returning favour, albeit it was not as strong as she would have liked. "I will get Mrs. Reynolds for you."

Before Elizabeth had a chance to ask who Mrs. Reynolds was, Jane had exited the room on quick steps. So she laid back with a sigh, pushing the thick cover off of her to cool down her suddenly heated skin.

Only then did she see the large expanse of her stomach. She stared, horrified and confused at the mound for what felt like an age. When something moved within, Elizabeth could do nothing but scream aloud.

Jane and an older woman Elizabeth presumed to be the aforementioned Mrs. Reynolds hurried into the room when they heard her scream, both looking worried for her wellbeing.

"Mrs. Darcy, are you all right? Is the child-"

"Mrs. Darcy?!" Elizabeth cried, horrified. "What is the meaning of this? Jane?"

Jane and Mrs. Reynolds shared a shocked look. "Perhaps you should intercede," Jane shot a look at her sister, "before my brother comes up here."

Mrs. Reynolds nodded, hurrying away to prevent her Master from seeing his wife in such a state, or be injured by what she may say in the heat of the moment. In the hallway, she met her Master's steward, on his way to the kitchen, and she intercepted him and told him to send for the doctor; Mrs. Darcy was awake, but seemed not to remember having married. The steward, bless his composure, merely nodded and turned to do her bidding, while Mrs. Reynolds went to find Mr. Darcy.

Upstairs, Jane had sat down next to Elizabeth on the bed, their hands once more clasped together. "Do you truly not remember?" Jane asked her sister gently, not wanting to frighten her. "You and Mr. Darcy married a year ago."

"I would never have married him," Elizabeth insisted. "How did it come to be?"

Jane frowned briefly, uncertain as to how to answer her. "You fell in love," she said simply.

"In love? Me, in love, with Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth sounded incredulous. "Jane, be serious. What has happened?"

"You were riding out with Georgiana, Miss Darcy, and the carriage upturned. You hit your head and have only just awoken. The doctor warned us about the possibility of your memories being affected, but I never thought-" The two sisters stared at each other for some time. "Lizzy, you love Mr. Darcy. You are happy to be married to him. He is one of the kindest, gentlest man I have ever met and he loves you. And your child."

At the mention of the chid growing within her, Elizabeth wrapped her arm around her stomach, almost unconsciously, as she blushed.

"I-" she broke off, squeezing Jane's hand, feeling strangely calm, "I do not remember. The last I remember, you had received a letter from Caroline Bingley saying their whole party was leaving Netherfield. But you say it happened a year ago?"

"More than a year ago, now," Jane answered. She hoped Elizabeth had not noticed the wince she'd been unable to hide at the mention of the Bingleys. "It will be two years this November, and it is now well into May."

"And I have been married for a year?" Elizabeth felt strangely calm, even at the thought of being married to Mr. Darcy and carrying his child. Jane would not lie to her, and though she couldn't fathom what might've changed in her feelings towards him to get her to agree to matrimony with the man she detested, she knew herself enough to realise she would not have married him unless she'd wanted to.

She was not impressed with finery, despite how liberal he may be in sharing them with her, and she had always vowed to marry for love. If nearly two years had passed, she must've in that time learned more of his character to change her view of him and his actions.

The thought gave her pause. "What of Mr. Wickham?"

Jan startled. "I- I had forgotten. Mr. Wickham, what to say," she paused to gather her thoughts, unsure of what she should share with Elizabeth. But knowing her sister as she did, Jane decided to share all she knew; it would certainly help Mr. Darcy win her sister's love once more, if the man did not stand in their way yet again. "Mr. Wickham lied."

Elizabeth stared, wide-eyed in disbelief, as Jane told her the story Elizabeth had once shared with her, in their bedroom at Longbourn. Of how Mr. Darcy had been kind and generous with the man who, it turned out, had been quite the opposite of what a man of the cloth should be, and how Mr. Darcy had finally had enough when Mr. Wickham attempted to leave Meryton with their own youngest sister, Lydia.

A plan, which luckily had been foiled in the last minute by Elizabeth's own husband. Jane even told Elizabeth of all that Wickham had left in his wake; the debts, the women and the illegitimate children – several found even around their own county.

Elizabeth gasped many times as Jane slowly but painstakingly told her of the story. "But he seemed so genuine, so truthful."

"He did," Jane agreed regretfully. "But he shared too much; you yourself once said so, though I suppose you do not remember it as you do not remember what prompted your own change of heart regarding the man."

"What has become of him?" Elizabeth asked, her voice quiet.

"He was put in debtors prison, where I'm afraid he died, shortly thereafter from a disease."

Despite everything Wickham had done and tried to do with their young and impressionable sister, Jane was sad at the loss of a life.

"When was this? When did it happen?"

"A year ago now; nearly a month after you and Mr. Darcy married." Jane paused. "Father and Mr. Darcy believe it was your marriage that prompted his sudden revelation of his true character. He was under pressure from the merchants in town, but not until he learned Mr. Darcy had married into our family did he attempt his seduction of Lydia."

Elizabeth laid back against the pillows, caressing her large stomach without much thought to settle the child.

"I can hardly believe it."

"I could not either, but I am afraid it is all true."

The sisters sat in silence for some time; Elizabeth getting once more used to feeling a babe moving within her and Jane studying her carefully.

Suddenly, Elizabeth looked at Jane. "What of you? Where are we?"

"Oh," Jane looked surprised. "I- we are at Pemberley, your home. I was visiting," she inclined her head towards Elizabeth's form with a slight blush, "to help."

Elizabeth frowned. "You are not married?"

Jane swallowed thickly. "I am not," she revealed, her voice wavering.

"But-"

"Lizzy please, it still pains me," Jane begged her. "I do not wish to talk about it."

Elizabeth nodded. "I understand," she said, though she did not.

There was a knock on the door and they both looked up at the sound.

"That must be the doctor; I'm sure Mrs. Reynolds sent for him," Jane said, standing to admit their visitor.

"Could it not be my husband?" It was a credit to Elizabeth's strong nature that she was able to speak the words without a hint of her true feelings.

Jane smiled sadly. "He would not have knocked," she said.

"Highhanded and demanding then?" Elizabeth asked, not expecting an answer.

"Oh, not at all; it is merely that you share the room and so he has no reason to knock."

Elizabeth stared after her sister as Jane opened the door and conversed quietly with the doctor; too quietly for Elizabeth to hear, as her mind whirled with implication. Her own parents didn't share a room; despite their decision to sleep separately leaving their daughters to share rooms, longer than was custom for a family of their station.

Jane excited the room quietly, as the Doctor approached the bed upon which Elizabeth still laid.

"Mrs. Darcy, I am relieved to see you are awake. I am Dr. Johnson. Your sister told me of your affliction, of which I am afraid there is no cure but time to heal. I would like to examine you all the same though, to ensure the health of yourself and that of your child."

"Of course, Doctor."

– – – –

Jane knocked softly on the door to her brother's study. A quiet 'come in' sounded through the door, so Jane entered. She found Mr. Darcy seated at his desk, staring into the fire, the mountain of paperwork in front of him still as massive as it had been before, when he was forced by duty to his estate to leave Elizabeth's side. Jane had taken his place in the room, but by his lack of progress in state matters, it was clear that though his body was in this study, his mind remained with his wife above stairs.

"How is she?" he asked, his voice pained when he saw Jane.

"Well, but for the loss of her memories."

Her brother's face twisted into a painful grimace at the reminder. "It is bad then?"

"She does not remember past the Netherfield ball," Jane answered, her voice sad.

Darcy glanced up at her. "Have you told her, about you and-?" he didn't finish his sentence, knowing Jane would understand.

Jane shook her head. "She has not yet asked; but then, her mind was understandably occupied with the revelations of her marriage, her unborn child and the truth about Mr. Wickham."

Darcy stood, surprise written all over him. "You told her of him?"

"Of course." Jane smiled sadly. "As you know, at the time of the Netherfield ball, she disliked you for what she believed to be your unjust treatment of Mr. Wickham. I wanted to save you the trouble of having to relay the story yourself, once more. And, let me be frank, but she hardly believed me; she would not have accepted the truth from you easily."

"I thank you." Darcy walked over to the drink tray, preparing himself a fortifying scotch. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you." Jane sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk, managing only just to look dignified as she did so; she was tired and weary, not to mention worried.

"How is the child?" Darcy asked, his back still turned to her as he stood by the drink tray.

Jane knew which word would allay his fears at this point, until the doctor arrived and could give a more extensive account of his offspring's health. "Alive," she said.

She watched as her brother drowned the drink. Instead of filling the glass for another, he went back to his desk.

"The doctor is with my sister now; he should have more to say on the matter when he has finished his examination."

"Do you believe she would be opposed to my company?" He could not look at his sister as he spoke, the reminder of his beloved wife's previous ill thoughts of him too painful still a reminder, the remnants of hurt still visible in his eyes.

"On the contrary; I believe she would be quite glad to speak with you. I know she has questions and you may both benefit if the answers come from you."

Darcy almost smiled; his wife was ever inquisitive.

"But I suggest you wait until she comes to you; if you enter your bedchamber now," Jane tried not to blush at the reminder of their shared quarters, and failed, "she may feel you are breaking the rules of propriety, as she does not remember your married life."

"It would not be the first time I had done so," Darcy said with a hint of distain.

Jane said nothing; what could she say, to the man who had compromised her sister in front of a witness, in the belief she had agreed to his proposal of marriage – unintentionally forcing her to agree and move to another county, away from her family and friends, with a man she at the time did not even admire.

Darcy looked so unhappy that Jane felt for him. "I did not tell her, of that," she assured him. "I merely spoke of your feelings for each other now."

Darcy looked surprised, but thankful. "I appreciate it greatly, Miss Bennet."

"It was for my sister's sake, as much as your own."

"You are too kind, all the same."

"Think nothing of it, Mr. Darcy." Jane smiled. "My sister loves you, regardless of how your marriage came to be. You make her happy and that is what matters now. We should focus on that, and on keeping her healthy and safe, and not of the past."

He nodded in agreement, feeling a wave of love for his sister. Jane was far too kind hearted to be treated as she had been by his friend. He pushed the thought away, not wanting to think of that now too.

They remained in silence for a moment.

"How fares your sister?"

Darcy frowned. "She is upset, as is expected. She feels guilt, which I have tried to speak her out of. Hopefully, when she knows Elizabeth is awake and that our child is safe, she will recover too."

"I will go and speak to her, if you do not mind." Jane stood.

"Not at all, thank you." Darcy smiled gently at her, standing as well; he was a gentleman through and through, even in the face of life altering events. "Your kindness would do much to help her, I am certain."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Please alert me to what the doctor says of my sister's condition."

"I will."

Jane left him to find the young Miss Darcy, of age but still so innocent and impressionable. The girl loved Elizabeth like her own sister, a feeling Elizabeth had readily reciprocated. She had been most affected by the injuries suffered by the upturning of their carriage, even though the young girl had not been to blame. It had fallen to Jane to care for the girl much of the time since the fall as Mr. Darcy sat with his wife, praying for her and their child. Georgiana had refused to visit Elizabeth, due to her feelings of guilt and Darcy had thought it best, not wanting his sister to be further upset by witnessing Elizabeth sleeping so heavily and unnaturally or her usually so strong brother's visible worry.

The doctor announced his presence shortly after Jane departed, and though Mr. Darcy wished for better news, he was relieved with what the doctor told him; Elizabeth and their child was safe, though would require time to rest. The memory loss the Dr. Johnson believed to be temporary, and the memories Elizabeth had lost would come back in time, on their own; there was nothing to do but wait.

The doctor left with a promise to return, and with a sigh, Darcy leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes and prayed that his wife would come to love him again.

When Mrs. Reynolds found him some time later, he was seated in much the same position; but at her entry, he stood at the ready.

"Mrs. Darcy is asking for you," she told him, her voice calm but worry hidden behind her eyes.

Darcy barely heard her say that the cook had been instructed to prepare food for the Mistress and bring it up to their chamber, as he hurried past and up the stairs to his wife.

Only when he stood outside of their door did he hesitate and wonder; how would she react? Jane had spoken to her, that was true, so while she was no longer under the misapprehension that he had wronged Wickham, that did not immediately translate into her being in love with _him_. It had taken her some time once they were married, after all.

He knocked on the door and when he heard Elizabeth's voice admitting him into the room, Darcy opened the door slowly and stepped inside. He saw his wife, sitting in their bed with her back against the pillows. He could see the expanse of her stomach where the covers had fallen off her, and his eyes lingered on the curve before he looked her in the eye.

"Jane told me you would not knock," she said, her voice light and her lips twisted in a hesitant smile.

"I did not – I wouldn't- I thought you-" he stumbled over his words, not knowing what to expect.

"Will you not come closer?" Elizabeth asked, eyeing him still by the door. "Though I do not remember my feelings for you, Jane has assured me that I do love you and she would not lie to me. What is more, I would not marry if I did not love the man who was to be my husband, so while I am uncertain as to how I came to love you, rest assured I have more sense than to deny it now."

Darcy stepped closed to the bed and sat in the chair he'd placed beside it earlier in the week, when she had first returned to the house in an unconscious state.

"I cannot pretend that I love you now, you understand," Elizabeth continued, "but if I loved you once, I believe I shall love you again."

"It means very much to me to hear you say so," Darcy replied. "You are being quite pragmatic."

"I would feel foolish indeed to have hated you now, once my memories return and I love you once more," Elizabeth said, "and you have not been quite as bad as I had been lead to believe by Mr. Wickham."

Darcy grimaced at the name. "I am glad Jane spoke to you of him; I would not wish to do so again."

Elizabeth frowned. "You were the one who told me before?"

He hesitated, wondering at her expression. "Yes."

"I cannot believe I took it very well," Elizabeth said with a small laugh. "I could hardly believe it now, coming from my own sister."

"Oh no, you refused to believe me," Darcy agreed foolishly. "Had not your father revealed the truth in Wickham's attempt at stealing your sister away, I believe you still would've refused to believe me when I told you."

Elizabeth frowned. "Did that not happen after we were married?"

Darcy froze, realising suddenly that they had entered dangerous territory through no one's fault but his own. He did not want to admit to Elizabeth that she had been forced to marry him after he had kissed her and a scullery maid from Rosings had seen them, but because he had been careless and allowed himself to relax now that she was awake, he may be forced to. He knew his wife; she would demand the full truth.

"Did we marry before I learned the truth?" Elizabeth sat up in bed, biting down a wince as she moved; she was too angry now at his lack of answer. "Do not lie to me, please."

"I did not tell you of Wickham until he almost ran away with Lydia," Darcy admitted softly.

Elizabeth stared at him. "I do not mean to be rude, but how did I come to love you while still believing you had ruined Mr. Wickham's life?"

Darcy swallowed and looked pained. "You did not," he whispered.

Elizabeth and Darcy stared at each other for a long moment, neither knowing what to say. Jane choose that moment to step inside. Immediately, she saw that something was wrong between husband and wife, their countenance speaking for them, and she hesitated in closing the door behind her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude; Mrs. Reynolds found me and I-" she broke off, realising neither was truly listening to her excuses.

"I will leave you now, my lov- Elizabe- I," Darcy swallowed, standing. "Mrs. Reynolds is having food sent up; you best eat it."

Elizabeth said nothing as she watched him leave, his head bowed. He glanced back once and met her eyes, just before the door closed and broke their connection.

Jane waited for Elizabeth to react; what she waited for she did not know, but it wasn't long before her sister turned her confused eyes upon the elder. Jane immediately came forward, nearly falling onto the bed in her haste to reach Elizabeth's hand, which she clutched in her own.

"Why did I marry him?" Elizabeth asked. "The truth, please, Jane."

"You were in Kent; visiting our cousin and his wife," Jane paused briefly. "Our cousin married your Charlotte Lucas," Elizabeth gasped at the revelation, but otherwise remained silent, "and Mr. Darcy was there visiting his aunt, Lady Catherine. You spent some weeks in company together, and Mr. Darcy realised he would not stop loving you."

Elizabeth frowned, but allowed her sister to continue without interruption.

"He asked you to marry him and- and before you had rejected him, he kissed you."

"I was compromised?" Elizabeth asked, aghast.

"He believed you would agree; he had no reason to think you would not," Jane said, knowing as she did that she was making allowances for her brother's previous behaviour based solely on her sister's feelings for him now.

Elizabeth looked at her sister with an incredulous look in her eyes.

Jane sighed. "Your husband is a man of great means; he has a lot of money, a large estate, several advantageous connections and is of a physic many women wish their husbands had. He could not imagine you would say no, considering our position in life and our prospects. I am not trying to condone or excuse his actions, but he did it out of love." She squeezed Elizabeth's hand. "Just as we have been raised knowing of our limitations when it came to a prosperous marriage, he had been raised knowing that many women would seek him out because he would be a very good match for anyone."

"I was forced to marry him."

Jane nodded. "A maid from Rosings saw you; and though you had planned on refusing his proposal, you couldn't. Lady Catherine was most displeased and forced you to return home, with Mr. Darcy following behind. You were married three weeks later here in Derbyshire by special licence."

Elizabeth was quiet for a moment as she took everything in. "But I love him now?"

Jane smiled and squeezed her hand once more. "You love him now very much."

Elizabeth sighed. "I am tired," she said. "My head is hurting."

"I will leave you to rest," Jane said, standing. "But you need to eat when Sarah comes with a tray for you."

Elizabeth agreed readily; she was hungry, her stomach almost twisting and turning from it. It was an odd sensation, and one she did not realise came not from her own hunger, but from her child being restless.

When Jane left, she sat looking out the window, unseeingly at the sky.

– – – –

It took Elizabeth nearly four days before she felt well enough to get out of bed. The day being a beautiful one, she had coerced her husband to allow her to step outside for a walk. Her husband, who refused her nothing that was his to give, agreed so long as she took a short and slow stroll, and did not attempt to walk as she used to. With her, Elizabeth had Jane, who fussed over her comfort greatly. Though she did not go so far as to suggest they took a carriage around, she made sure Elizabeth's promise to her husband was upheld by steering Elizabeth around on a path that did not venture too far from the house.

As they walked, Jane continued to tell Elizabeth of their family; of how their lives had changed, and hadn't, since Elizabeth last remembered. As a result of Lydia's near brush with ruin, their father had finally realised what he had allowed by letting his children run free under the lax restrictions of their mother. He placed Lydia and Kitty both under what essentially amounted to house arrest, demanding that they, along with Mary, spent their time improving their minds and conduct. He refused to allow them admittance to any balls until a time came when he felt satisfied they would not bring shame upon their family.

Not even their mother's fit of nerves or insistence they be let out moved him, much to their elder sister's relief.

As they walked, it occurred to Elizabeth what had been missing from Jane's stories over the past few days. She paused at a wooden bench placed with a charming view of the lake and suggested they sat down, before she turned to her sister and taking her hand.

"Jane," Elizabeth said softly, "what of Mr. Bingley?"

Jane startled and blushed, looking away. "I have not seen him since your wedding," she revealed in a quiet voice.

Elizabeth frowned. "But, why ever not?"

Jane said nothing.

"We can invite him here," Elizabeth suggested, "while you are with us, maybe then-"

"Lizzy , please," Jane sounded pained. "He made it quite clear he does not feel for me as I do for him."

"But-"

"He is to marry another," Jane revealed, sadly. "He became engaged shortly after leaving Netherfield following the Ball you last remember."

"But-" Elizabeth repeated, now confused for another reason. "I thought he loved you; or at the very least was well on his way to become so."

"As did I. But he did not; it was an infatuation, according to your Mr. Darcy. I'm afraid I was not the first to come under such a misapprehension regarding Mr. Bingley's feelings. It seems he fell in and out of love with ease, and with his open and engaging manner... I do not believe he meant to hurt me, he simply didn't think I would care for him as deeply as I did when he left and moved on."

"Oh, Jane." Elizabeth embraced her sister and they held each other tightly. "I am much grieved to hear it."

The sun began to set as they sat together, deep in their own thoughts. Darcy joined them, coming around the corner and stopping at the sight of them in such a way that made it clear he'd been looking for them.

"Supper is ready to be served," he said, coming forward to help Elizabeth to stand. She took his hand without thinking twice as he held it out for her. He offered his other arm to Jane, but she declined, choosing instead to walk behind the couple as they walked back into the house.

Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy looked back at Jane as they walked, though they heard her soft steps on the gravel, for they were certain she needed the solitary moment. Jane and Darcy had become as close as brother and sister could be in the time Jane had resided with them, and he had been privy enough to her hurt at Charles' easy ability to switch the object of his affection; though unintentionally at first. Elizabeth had only revealed to him the depth of Jane's feelings when he suggested inviting Charles and his family to Pemberley following their honeymoon, to keep company with them and Jane, who would be visiting at the same time. By then Charles and his fiancé had settled on a date and his family party would have included the young woman. Though Darcy had not heard what the sisters had spoken off, he had seen enough of Jane's expression to recognise the faraway and sad look in her eyes.

Later that evening, after Georgiana and Jane had both retired to bed, earlier than either normally did, Elizabeth looked at her husband where he sat beside her, reading.

"What happened with Mr. Bingley?" she asked. "I thought for sure he admired Jane."

Darcy closed his book with a sigh and turned to her. "I believe he did; he told me as much when we were in Hertfordshire. But not enough, it would seem. I have regretfully seen him fall in and out of love in the past, but I thought that your sister... He does not play with the feelings of women intentionally, but he doesn't realise how other's view his open manner and the way he often occupies the woman he admires. I have spoken to him in the past on how it can be taken, the way he speaks almost exclusively to one woman, raising her hopes, but when his feelings are engaged he does not think."

Elizabeth allowed the silence to stretch for a moment. "And what of the lady he is to marry?"

"Miss Amersy; she is a kind enough woman and they are, I have to admit, well suited for each other. Even you thought so, when we met them in town."

"Does she have a fortune?" Elizabeth couldn't help but ask.

"Yes, but not a very large one. Her connections are well enough, but not close to what Bingley's sisters would've preferred he marry."

Elizabeth was quiet for a while, pretending to study the needlework she had attempted all evening; a handkerchief bearing her new initials, a work she had begun before her injury but not completed. "He must love her then."

"I believe he does, yes." Darcy looked at her. "They are to be married this fall, and we have of course been invited," he eyes her stomach, "though you would not wish to travel such a distance then, I am sure."

Elizabeth couldn't help but blush at the reminder; though her altered physique was noticeable and she could now identify the sensation of her child moving inside of her as the evidence of their marital life grew every day, Elizabeth had no recollection of being a married woman. She was still, in many ways, the innocent maiden he had once married.

"I am feeling tired," she said, to avoid looking at her husband.

Darcy quickly stood to help her stand, not letting go of her hand even once she was standing as well. "I will walk up with you," he said quietly.

Elizabeth nodded, allowing him to help her up the stairs; she found it quite difficult to walk up the high staircase without aid, as she was still not used to her enlarged size and how it disrupted her usual balance.

They walked in silence to their bedroom door, where Darcy seemed unwilling to let her go. Allowing for her lack of memories, he had moved into another bedroom, letting her have theirs to herself as she became more comfortable in what was to her a new role.

She had assumed he would return to the bedchamber that connected to hers, but when he had showed her the space the previous day, it turned out he had broken with convention and turned the room into a nursery. Their child would spend his initial years in the room, close to his parents, before being moved to a proper room down the hall.

"Elizabeth," Darcy whispered, his eyes dark as he stared at her.

She recognised the look in his eyes; it was similar to how he had gazed at her at Netherfield. Only now did she realise what it meant; what it had meant all along.

"I-" he closed in on himself suddenly, seeing something in her face that prevented him from continuing, and he took a step back. "I bid you goodnight, Madam. Sleep well."

He gave her one long last look before he turned and walked to his temporary bedchamber. Elizabeth watched him go, and not until he was out of sight, hidden behind the click of the door as he closed it, did she enter her own room.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and though Elizabeth was truly tired, she was unable to fall asleep for a very long time, as she thought of her husband and the way he had looked at her.

– – – –

When Elizabeth finally slept, she dreamed.

She dreamed she was standing by the bed in a dimly lit room, waiting nervously in her nightclothes; it was the same room and the same bed she slept in now, but her physic had not yet filled out. The side door opened and her husband came through, closing it softly behind him; so softly no sound could be heard. His appearance was one of nervousness also, but he seemed to calm the closer to her he came. She knew not if they spoke, but from one moment to the next, he was fully in front of her and they were kissing.

The feeling of his lips on hers caused tingles to run through her entire body, and she pressed herself closer to his larger form.

He undressed her and took her to the bed, where he made love to her, slowly and gently.

"I know you did not marry me out of love," he said after, as they rested side by side under the covers, "but I promise I will do everything I can to make you happy here with me."

The earnest look in his eyes, and the way he had gazed at her when he laid on top of her and moved within her stayed with Elizabeth, even as she woke with a gasp to the too early light of dawn.

She remembered the pleasure he'd brought her in the dream with a blush; which brightened as she realised it had quite possibly been a memory and not a dream of her own design. In that early morning, as Elizabeth laid in bed and remembered the details of her dream; the way he had touched her, kissed her and what he had said as he made love to her, not even the thought of her memories returning brought her much comfort.

Hoping to escape the constant reminder, Elizabeth got out of bed and sat instead by the window, gazing out at her husband's property.

Her mind was in a state of confusion and her stomach unruly as the child moved and kicked. After her bath the previous day she had seen her altered state in the full for the first time. When gazing at her expanded stomach in the mirror, the child had taken the opportunity to kick his foot out; the movement had been visible in the reflection and Elizabeth had watched, entranced, before placing her hands over the child to feel the movements from the outside as well as from within.

Now, as she waited for breakfast to be served, an event that would not take place for another hour at the least, she wondered at the child. If he would be a boy or a girl, what kind of father her husband would prove to be, and when the child would be born. The doctor who had visited with her when she'd first woken up had assured her that the child was healthy, but had neglected to tell her how much longer she had to wait, and Elizabeth, having been too recently woken up and confronted with the changes in her life, had forgotten to ask.

She resolved then to ask Jane the next time they were in private; Georgiana was far too young to ask such a thing and Elizabeth was still too embarrassed to talk about it with her husband.

Especially now, considering her dream.

Her cheeks were once more infused with heat at the reminder, though she tried not to be so Missish. She was a married woman now, after all.

– – – –

Elizabeth's breakfast was not the quiet affair she had first anticipated; her husband was the only one who joined her so early and he refused to allow her to sit quietly by his side, and engaged her in conversation. Elizabeth did not know him as well as he knew her, and it affected her ability to speak with him as freely as he'd grown accustomed, but he was not discouraged.

"Would you like to take a turn in the garden with me?"

Elizabeth nodded and stood, using the table for leverage to help her stand. "I would love to," she said with a smile.

Darcy offered his arm and Elizabeth took it, her heart fluttering more than usual at his nearness; she blamed it on the dream.

They excited the house at a sedate pace, and Darcy allowed Elizabeth to set the pace to one she found comfortable. The morning was warm and beautiful, the spring slowly turning into summer around them.

Darcy led them down toward the lake without a word, stopping only when they reached a wooden bench which he helped Elizabeth to sit down on.

"There are quite a few of these here," she observed, having just spotted another similarly looking construction on the other side of the water.

Darcy smiled, sitting down next to her. The bench was only large enough to fit the two of them comfortably, and his thigh touched hers; he was glad she didn't move her leg away, but allowed the slight connection. "I had them commissioned after we learned you-" he looked down at her stomach, "after we found out of our-" he sounded as embarrassed as Elizabeth felt at the subject matter. "For you to rest on, when out walking," he finally settled on, smiling gently.

Elizabeth looked at him; truly looked at him, this man who was her husband.

In the short time she had spent with him since waking from her fall, she had seen a side of him she was not surprised she'd come to love. She had been so wrong of his character, and with everything Jane had told her of him and of their life together – things Elizabeth had once shared with her sister to reassure her Elizabeth was happy, and Jane now shared back for the same reason – she was not surprised she had loved him as much as Jane claimed.

He was a gentle and sweet, caring man. His actions in Hertfordshire had been that of a man who was unaccustomed to talking with strangers without worrying over how his actions were perceived by the room at large; a shy man, who had not learnt to put himself forward and converse easily with strangers.

He was still haughty and proud, most likely, and Elizabeth was sure he could still give offense easily wherever he went, but she saw him better now. In such a short time as she had been awake, she had seen him at ease within his own home; his kindness with Georgiana, with Jane and his staff – even with herself, though he was guarded at times when he looked at her.

Elizabeth came to realise, in that moment, as she watched her husband, that what he displayed to the rest of the world was a shield which he hid behind to protect himself from fortune hunters, wagging tongues and the type of people who would try to integrate themselves in the life of someone of his station.

She now saw him for who he was, and she instinctively knew how well they suited each other. She would never have loved him as much as Jane assured her she did, if they did not.

He smiled again at her when he noticed her looking; her brow furrowed in thought and her bottom lip caught between her lips. "Are you cold?"

"No, thank you." Elizabeth placed her hand over his where it rested on his thigh, curling her fingers over his as she turned her body towards him. "I am very well."

His eyes brightened at her touch and at the sight of her gentle smile. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, before Darcy gathered his courage and leaned closer to kiss his wife.

She welcomed his attentions most eagerly, if a little hesitatingly; the hesitation disappeared almost instantly as her body remembered what her mind did not at the taste of him, and when they parted her eyes were as bright as his.

**The End.**

**Note: **There is an Outtake to follow, called "The Proposal". :) And yes, I wrote this over a year ago! It's been languishing on my hard drive ever since.


	2. Outtake - The Proposal

**Title:** Outtake - The Proposal  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Pride & Prejudice **Pairing:** Mr. Darcy/Elizabeth Bennet  
><strong>Summary:<strong> The proposal from "An Awakening", at Hunsford.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 3 165  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> An Awakening  
><strong>Distribution:<strong> Link only please  
><strong>Written:<strong> January 2013

**Outtake: The Proposal **(1/1)

His heart thundered in his chest as he hurried, in a rather undignified manner considering his position in society, to the spot where he had encountered Miss Bennet – _Elizabeth_ – on her previous walks. He was running late, having dallied in front of the mirror far too long as he inspected the cut of his morning jacket and smoothed out the unseen wrinkles in his trousers, and this was the reason for his un-gentlemanly display of quickness.

As he approached the bend from which Miss Bennet would come on her way from the Personage, he prayed he was not too late. He could not see her in the lane ahead, so Mr. Darcy stopped for a moment to catch his breath and calm his heart as he waited for her to pass; hoping to at least catch her on her return if she had already taken her walk.

Quiet footsteps could be heard after a moment, coming from the direction of Hunsford and Mr. Darcy steeled himself for the lovely vision he was certain was approaching his hiding place. With the morning sunlight streaming through the trees, lighting the sky around them green and lush as it fell through the leaves above, the spot felt private and intimate. Although not entirely proper, should anyone see them and accuse them of doing far more than taking a stroll in the gardens together, Mr. Darcy was more than ready to bow to convention and honour, and marry Miss Bennet as soon as possible.

Selfishly, he wished someone _would_ see them and cause tongues to wag; to give him the excuse he needed to marry her while keeping face in front of his family members, many of who would disapprove of the match – even if it made him happy. The fact that his family would approve of her more if he had been forced into the marriage by his own mistake than if they had fallen in love was a fact Darcy had never understood, but that was often how it worked in the circles he and his family travelled. Marrying for love was looked down upon, while many a marriages had come about through the not always entirely innocent compromising of the lady.

But _Elizabeth_ deserved better than that; she deserved to be wooed and courted. Mr. Darcy simply didn't know how to go about courting her, especially not under the watchful eyes of his aunt – or the calculating eyes of his chosen lady's mother.

The slight and pleasing form of his beloved stepped from behind the bend, and his heart jumped in his chest, thundering wildly as he stepped forward. "Miss Bennet," he greeted her, his voice surprisingly calm despite the chaos that raged within his breast at the sight of her.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth returned, giving him a polite nod.

She barely stopped to allow him to fall into step with her, which he did silently.

"It is a pleasant morning," Mr. Darcy said after their silence had gone on for far too long for his liking.

"It is indeed, Mr. Darcy; but then I enjoy nature and so long as the sun is shining, I will find it a pleasant day, regardless of what else may be around."

Mr. Darcy frowned slightly at her words, not entirely understanding her meaning. But, feeling encouraged by her reply to further their conversation, he put it out of his mind. "Have your walks here in Kent been more enjoyable than those you engage in so often at home in Hertfordshire?"

Elizabeth looked up at him for a brief moment, seeming to think over her answer. "It is difficult to compare, as my walks at home are taken either in solitude or with close confidants, and the paths I walk are familiar to me; here, I have only just begun to recognise the nature around me." She paused for a moment, noticing a small flower in the green bed by the side of their pathway. "But I visited at the right time, it seems, for the woods are showing themselves off at their very best at present."

Mr. Darcy looked at her, and agreed.

"Variation is not unwelcome then?" he asked as they continued to walk again.

"Not at all," Elizabeth agreed. "But I do long for the familiar when I have been away."

There was a lull in their conversation, as Elizabeth enjoyed the view and Mr. Darcy tried to calm his racing heart.

"In time, even surroundings that are new and much different from the ones you have been used to growing up, can become as familiar to you as the ones you enjoy in your present home."

Elizabeth looked up at him in surprise, but with her cheeks colouring at his insinuation, she looked away again quickly in confusion.

Mr. Darcy, only too late, realised his blunder; he was not yet ready to propose, no matter how much he may wish to do so, and the line of conversation he had instigated suggested much more than he had been prepared to share – especially given their solitude and relative acquaintance with each other. He had not meant to question her regarding the move she would make once she married; especially not as she was not yet engaged to be so. It was not proper, not only because it might give her the idea that he was preparing her for the move she would need to make to _his_ home, but also if she never married. Though it was assumed that all young ladies married, the truth of the matter was that not everyone did.

Mr. Darcy selfishly hoped, since she could not marry him, she would remain a maiden for the rest of her days.

They continued their walk in silence, both too embarrassed and worried about saying the wrong thing to speak; but for entirely different reasons.

The next two weeks passed in much the same manner; Elizabeth walked in the mornings, more often than not meeting Mr. Darcy, regardless of which path she took, and together they would stroll around the garden. Often in silence, but more and more not. Her days were spent with Charlotte, whenever her friend's duties as Mr. Collin's wife didn't take her away where Elizabeth could not, or would not, follow.

The evenings were spent at Rosings with an alarming frequency, despite the appearance of Lady Catherine's nephews, though Mr. Collins had promised the opposite when Elizabeth first arrived. Mr. Collins of course attributed the invitations to himself, and Lady Catherine's genial manner, and he was in raptures over every invitation to dinner or evening party, believing the invitations came from the Lady herself, and never suspecting they were invited so often because her nephews wanted to spend time with his cousin.

While at Rosings, Mr. Darcy seemed to seek out Elizabeth more than he had in the past. But she thought nothing of it; his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam did the same, and she believed it had more to do with her being a diversion from Lady Catherine and her silly Mr. Collins, than their specific wish to spend time with her.

Elizabeth slept late one morning, and when she stepped out of her cousin's cottage for her morning walk, following her morning meal, she believed it was so late that she had escaped being joined by Mr. Darcy. She felt free as she rambled through the lanes she had come to love, and she did not see anyone; not until she stepped out from behind a large tree and spied Mr. Darcy, standing still with his back towards her, looking at his fob watch for a moment, before looking up and towards the path that lead back to Hunsford.

Only then did it occur to her that perhaps he had waited for her, and that he had joined her on purpose each morning.

He turned when he heard her approach and Elizabeth greeted him as pleasantly as she could when he came closer, wishing her a good morning with a gentle smile. She felt something twist inside of her at the sight of his smile, in a not entirely unpleasant manner; the smile lit his entire face, softening it most handsomely.

"Miss Bennet," he paused for a moment, seeming to collect himself. "I have been walking in the groove for some time in the hope of meeting you."

The intense look in his eyes gave her pause and Elizabeth bit down the silly comment she had been about to make. She knew not what to say in return, so said nothing but waited for him to continue.

"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

Elizabeth startled in astonishment at his words, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

"Despite all of my endeavours and sense, I find that I cannot imagine my life without you and you would do me the greatest of honours, Miss Elizabeth, if you accepted my hand in marriage."

Elizabeth stared at him, not knowing what to say in reply. Mr. Collins had been easy enough to reject, but this man; this proud and haughty man, loved her. And as much as she may dislike him, Elizabeth did not wish to hurt him with the revelation of her own true feelings for him.

"Mr. Darcy, I thank you-"

She was not able to say more, for he stepped forward with a smile and pressed his lips to hers. Elizabeth gasped against his lips, which he took as an invitation to press himself closer to her; his arms were around her person and Elizabeth knew not what to do.

He pulled away after a moment, a beautiful smile on the lips that had just kissed hers; he seemed not to have noticed that she had not returned his affection. "You have made me so happy," he said, and the happiness was clear in his tone.

"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth cried, her heart pounding; she did not want to dwell too much on the reason for her thundering heart, for she feared her reaction had more to do with his nearness than her anger over his action. "Unhand me this instant!"

Mr. Darcy stepped back, releasing her, a look of confusion flittering over his face. "Elizabeth, I-"

The snap of a twig in the forest beside them made them both turn; there, with a clear view of the grove in which Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy stood, stood a maid they both recognised as belonging to Rosings. Her eyes were wide-eyed and a blush had spread over her cheeks. She said nothing, but it was clear she had seen them.

A moment of silence passed, before the maid turned and fled. Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth, his eyes wide.

"I am so sorry, my love. I- I will hurry to Rosings and assure Lady Catherine of our intentions of marriage before rumours start spreading, I promise." He took her hand, squeezing it with feeling. With one last long look at her and a smile of happiness, he left for Rosings.

Elizabeth remained in the groove, staring at the spot he had left even as he'd disappeared completely from view, wondering what had happened.

From one moment to the next, she had gone from feeling free to being forcibly engaged to a man she hated. A man who compromised her in front of a servant to his aunt, leaving Elizabeth in no doubt that the grand lady would find out about their misstep.

Elizabeth would be blamed for the kiss, of course, and the only thing she could do to save her reputation would be to marry Mr. Darcy. For Lady Catherine would not hesitate to spread the news, far and wide, with Mr. Collins helping her along by writing to Mr. Bennet. Oh, how her mother would react to the news!

Feeling numb and in decidedly lower spirits than when she had first stepped outside, Elizabeth returned to her cousin's cottage. She met Charlotte on her way out to the butchers. She asked Elizabeth if she wanted to join her on the short walk, but Elizabeth declined with what she hoped was enough spirits to not alarm.

Charlotte left and Elizabeth scurried up to her room before her cousin could see her. Once in her room, she sat down on the bed and stared out the window, still shell-shocked at the turn of events.

She did not know what to do. Her life had changed in the blink of an eye, and she was powerless to stop it.

A letter from Rosings arrived later in the day, revoking their invitation to dinner. Elizabeth was glad, and not at all surprised. When her cousin spent their entire supper wondering what might've happened to cause Lady Catherine to disinvite them so suddenly, never missing an opportunity to praise the good lady to the high heavens, Elizabeth said nothing.

The following day, Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself graced Hunsford with her imposing presence. Not even Elizabeth was prepared for her arrival, much less for what she had to say.

She entered the sitting room with barely a pause to be introduced, and immediately began abusing Elizabeth in front of her relations. Mr. Collins and Charlotte looked on with horrified and confused expressions; Charlotte gasped when Lady Catherine revealed Mr. Darcy had informed her of their engagement.

Mr. Collins began protesting, trying to reassure Lady Catherine that his cousin, though lacking in the same standards of manner as Lady Catherine, would never enter into an engagement with Mr. Darcy, as the man in question was engaged to Miss de Bourgh. And he would never consider lowering himself so far as to ask Elizabeth for her hand, especially not as he was already so advantageously engaged.

Elizabeth remained uncharacteristically silent; all the while Lady Catherine questioned her family, conduct and person. Mr. Darcy stepped into the room then, followed closely by his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"Madam, I must insist that you cease your abuse of my future wife. If you cannot conduct yourself with the proper decorum expected of a lady of your station in life, I suggest that you remove yourself."

Lady Catherine puffed herself up, her face twisted into an unpleasant expression. "I will not be spoken to in such a manner. You will not-"

"Aunt Catherine," Mr. Darcy interrupted her, "I will not argue with you, but ask that you return to your residence."

Her lips pinched together. "You will not be welcomed again; I shall never acknowledge her." Though she did not look at Elizabeth, there was no doubt of whom she meant.

Elizabeth herself stared up at them, horror flitting across her face.

"As you wish." Mr. Darcy moved to the side. "Fitzwilliam, get the door for your aunt, would you?"

Lady Catherine left, but not without first warning Mr. Collins that continuing a relationship with his cousin was not in his best interest. The house was quiet after she exited the building, but not for long; Mr. Darcy sat down on the sofa next to Elizabeth and took her hand.

"I am grieved, much grieved," he said, caressing her hand. "I will not allow my aunt to hurt you again, I promise."

"What she said," Elizabeth started. She looked up at where her cousin and friend sat in stunned silence, then at Colonel Fitzwilliam still standing by the door looking uncomfortable. She leaned in, lowering her voice. "She does not know how it happened?"

Mr. Darcy shook his head. "I was able to catch up with the maid in question and persuade her not to speak of it."

Elizabeth had a feeling he had used money to persuade the maid, but she said nothing; the fewer people who knew, the better. She and Mr. Darcy were still seated closely together on the sofa, and his dark eyes were far too close to be proper. Elizabeth leaned back and away from him, just as Mr. Collins crept closer.

"Miss Bennet," he said, "perhaps it would be better if you returned to Longbourn." He looked down at where Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy's clasped hands rested. "Post-haste."

Elizabeth looked over at her old friend, but though Charlotte looked pained, she could do nothing. "Of course," Elizabeth said, standing. "I will pack right away and leave as soon as a carriage could be arranged."

She didn't look back as she left the room behind; even though she heard Mr. Darcy start to argue with her feeble cousin. Only back in her room did Elizabeth allow herself to break down. She sat on the bed and cried into her hands, suddenly overcome with all that had happened over the past twenty-four hours.

And now she was to be cast out and returned home in disgrace, her newly repaired friendship with Charlotte close to over. They would not be allowed to keep contact, and Mr. Collins would make sure his wife kept her word.

There was a quiet knock on the door before it opened and Charlotte looked inside. "May I come in?"

Elizabeth nodded, wiping under her eyes to do away with the evidence of her tears. Charlotte came to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around Elizabeth's shoulders.

"I am sorry," she said, "but we are far too dependent on Lady Catherine's good will to-" She looked at Elizabeth and paused. "I am sorry."

"I understand," Elizabeth replied, and she truly did. Without Lady Catherine, her dear friend would have nothing but her husband.

"I will help you pack," Charlotte said, rising from the bed. "I am truly sorry, Lizzy."

"I know," Elizabeth returned, rising as well.

The two long-time friends worked in silence for a few moments, folding dresses and placing them in her travel trunk. Only when Charlotte began collecting the small amount of jewellery Elizabeth had brought with her to Kent, did she speak again.

"Mr. Darcy, Lizzy?" her voice sounded curious and confused.

Elizabeth looked up at Charlotte, meeting her eyes. "I- he proposed."

Charlotte smiled. "I knew he admired you greatly."

Elizabeth looked away. "I had no notion of it, not until he asked for my hand yesterday."

They were quiet for a while, working efficiently to clear Elizabeth's things from Charlotte's house.

"He must admire you more than I had assumed in Hertfordshire, to have proposed to you despite your lack of connections or fortune," Charlotte proclaimed. "He will take great care of you, I am certain."

"He said he loved me," Elizabeth revealed, needing to share it with someone else, even if she was to never see Charlotte again. "When he proposed, he told me he loved me."

Charlotte smiled, genuinely happy for her friend. She enveloped Elizabeth in an embrace, the packing done.

"I hope you will learn to love him in return," she whispered. "Leave the past behind and see him anew."

"I will try," Elizabeth promised, whispering also.

And she did.

**The End.**

**Note: **I have always been interested in stories where Jane and Bingley *don't* end up together, for whatever reason. I have no idea why. She will find her happy ever after though, don't worry, it just won't be written by me and it won't be with Bingley.


End file.
